


come back, be here

by wandasmaximoffs



Series: you and the stage and the wars you'll wage [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Musician/Dancer AU, Phone Calls, also known as the pop star au, but its past a v subtle like blink and you'll miss it, theyre gonna be okay guys dont worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 16:05:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12797859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandasmaximoffs/pseuds/wandasmaximoffs
Summary: He’s tired of the constant invasion of their privacy, of seeing scathing rumours about the man he loves, and about himself, circulate until almost everyone thinks they’re true; he’s tired of Enjolras never being home, always being in London or New York for a show or an interview or a shoot.He calls, when he can, and they facetime when schedules and timezones allow it. That doesn’t make the apartment any less empty, though, or the bed any less cold.





	come back, be here

“Hey, baby. Did I wake you up?”

Enjolras’ voice is muffled and tinny over the phone, and hoarse from the show, but he still sounds repentant. Grantaire shifts where he lays, curled up in the middle of the bed and tangled in blankets, to press the phone closer to his ear.

“No,” He says, and it’s the truth; it’s pathetic, he knows, but he’s been finding it hard to sleep without Enjolras around, lately. He’s just been laying there, playing Candy Crush on his phone and trying not to think about the emptiness of the apartment. “Don’t worry. I wasn’t sleeping.”

There’s a sigh of relief from the other end of the line, and Grantaire is becoming increasingly sure that he can’t handle this phone call right now. It’s late, and he misses Enjolras  _ so much,  _ and the pictures on the front of every tabloid have been getting to him, lately.

Don’t get him wrong; he knows Enjolras would never, ever cheat on him, at best because he truly loves him or at worse because his moral compass is just too strong to lead him astray, but-- It’s a lot, to walk down the street every day and see vendors selling magazines with pictures of your boyfriend and other men, cuddled up or laughing together. Grantaire  _ knows  _ that they’re never what they seem, just photos taken at the right time to make nothing seem like  _ something,  _ but still.

He’s not even  _ jealous,  _ just… Tired.

He’s tired of the constant invasion of their privacy, of seeing scathing rumours about the man he loves, and about  _ himself,  _ circulate until almost everyone thinks they’re true; he’s tired of Enjolras never being home, always being in London or New York for a show or an interview or a shoot. 

He calls, when he can, and they facetime when schedules and timezones allow it. That doesn’t make the apartment any less empty, though, or the bed any less cold. 

 

The bed creaks as he shifts, again, suddenly uncomfortable and claustrophobic in their dark bedroom; the clock on the bedstand reads 3:04 AM in neon green numbers.

Grantaire clears his throat. 

“Where are you tonight? London?”

“Yeah. It’s cold here, warmer than Paris, though. I’m at the airport, we’re heading to L.A a little earlier than planned.” He pauses, but even the phone line can’t muffle the longing in his voice when he says, “I wish you were here. Meet us in L.A, I’ll have Cosette get you a jet, I’ll rent you studio time while we’re out there, just-- Please. I miss you so much, Henri.”

God. It’s breaking Grantaire’s heart, all of this. He never expected being in a relationship with someone who is literally  _ world-famous  _ to be  _ easy,  _ but fuck, he never thought it was be this damn hard. The worst part, the kicker, the fucking cherry on top is that he knows it’s all worth it, all of it, just to be with Enjolras. Hell, it could be a million times worse than it is and he’d still know it was one-hundred-percent  _ worth it.  _

He can take the tabloids and the rumours, the isolation and the invasion of privacy, the  _ loneliness,  _ when he can trade it for Enjolras’ bedhead, or the little sound he makes when he’s especially frustrated, the way the air around him changes when he’s just performed or the way he bites his lip when he’s writing. He can take it, he can, he  _ can.  _

 

For a second, Grantaire wishes he were still drinking, has the sudden, blinding urge to just uncork a bottle and drink until he’s  _ numb-- _

No. That’s not who he is anymore. He’s made promises, too many to break, and not over this. Grantaire knows he wouldn’t only be hurting himself; Enjolras would find blame there, too, and that’s not-- That’s not what he wants.

“I can’t, E. I have classes to teach this week, and it’s Clara’s birthday on Saturday. I can’t miss my sister’s birthday, Antoine, I promised I’d be there.” The  _ “As did you,”  _ goes unsaid.

“Fuck,” He breathes, “Fuck. Clara. Shit. Okay, no, I can work this out, it’s fine, I’ll come back on Friday, okay? We can-- We can get dinner, and then on Saturday we’ll go to Clara’s party, and then I’ll go back to L.A and you-- Maybe you’ll come with me? Close the studio for just a week?”

He’s tempted. The studio he runs when it’s not tour season is failing as it is, since he refuses to let Enjolras endorse it or be a part of it financially, and just not enough people want to learn how to dance casually for the prices he has to charge. They’re not  _ exorbitant,  _ but the studio space is large, and the equipment expensive. 

It couldn't hurt to close, just for a week, could it? 

“Okay,” He says, before he has a chance to talk himself out of it, “Okay. That sounds good.”

Enjolras’ hopeful intake of breath crackles down the line; Grantaire can imagine the way his curls will have bounced with the movement, the small smile that could be appearing on his tired face. “So you’ll come?”

“Yeah, I’ll come. You’re working so hard, and I’m so fucking proud of you, but-- I miss you, honey. Gimme a chance to be with you, I’ll jump at it.” Grantaire’s smiling despite himself, and runs his free hand through his tangled curls. “Pick you up from the airport? I’ll be the one in the  _ ‘Number One Enjolras Trash!’  _ hoodie.”

Enjolras laughs at that, a proper,  _ genuine  _ laugh that tells him he knows he’s not kidding; it was a gift from a fan in New Zealand, and he honestly, unironically loves it. It encapsulates his love for Enjolras AND his love for hoodies perfectly. 

“Wouldn’t want anyone else to. Cosette is giving me the  _ look,  _ I better get going-- But get some  _ sleep,  _ okay, sweetheart?”

“Ok _ ay,  _ I will, I promise. Candy Crush absolutely does  _ not  _ have a hold of me in this Lord’s year of 2017.”

“ _ Henri, _ ” Enjolras doesn’t sound surprised; just exasperated, and maybe, maybe a little  _ fond. _ But then, quieter, “I really can’t wait to see you. I love you so much.”

And,  _ God,  _ there goes his heart again-- But it’s not breaking, this time, it’s just so  _ full  _ he feels like it could  _ burst.  _

“Me neither, honey. Take care of yourself, okay? Drink water, get rest, tell Cosette I think she’s a saint. I love you.”

* * *

 

Grantaire does, eventually, get some sleep. When he hangs up the phone, the bed feels warmer, the apartment less forebodingly empty; the promise of seeing Enjolras,  _ soon,  _ effectively smoothes out both the fears and doubts that come with being so in love with someone so famous, and the worry lines they cause on his forehead.

_ Maybe,  _ he thinks, before drifting off,  _ maybe we’ll be okay. _

**Author's Note:**

> WOOOO another pop star au fic. i gave up on writing/posting this series chronologically bc i just suck so bad at writing like that and felt like a lil bit of angst today. thank u for reading, and if the mood strikes feel free to leave comments/kudos!!
> 
> the title is from a taylor swift song of the same name (i think) and as always if u have any questions or wanna chat u can hmu on tumblr @ jeahnprouvaiire! i literally always want to talk about this au so feel totally free to hmu over there. thank yall again, i hope u enjoyed this!!!


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